


I Hate When I Feel (Like This)

by VSSAKJ



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Asynchronous Orgasms, Crests Activate During Sex (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Felix Hugo Fraldarius is Bad at Feelings, Highly Acrobatic Wall Sex, M/M, Missing Scenes, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VSSAKJ/pseuds/VSSAKJ
Summary: Is it really love when nobody manages to say it?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	I Hate When I Feel (Like This)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pleurer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/gifts).



> Happy Chocolate Box! A treat for you.
> 
> Title from "Poke" by Frightened Rabbit.

He hates Dimitri because of what happened to Glenn.

It’s all Felix can think about as he shoves his face into his forearm, filling his mouth with his own skin to keep from making a sound as Dimitri thrusts in and out, in and out. They’ve done this before—they’ve done this so many times that Felix knows Dimitri’s body almost by rote. Dimitri’s ragged fingernails scrape down his hips, Dimitri’s breath raises the hairs on the nape of his neck and again, _every time_ , Dimitri asks that same fucking question he can never finish because he’s too caught up in himself, “Felix, is it… ?”

 _‘Is it_ what?’ Felix won’t ask, biting down and swallowing the sounds in his throat.

It’s like training. Careful repetitive footwork, round after round of high slices and low parries, over and over until Felix feels burning in every single muscle.

The same sharp arrhythmic jut of Dimitri’s hips as he gets closer to losing it, the same clenching need growing more demanding within Felix as his muscles contract around Dimitri’s prick. The same warm-then-cool line of sweat tracing down his spine, and Felix arching as it trickles between his buttocks, down into the hot space where their bodies meet, slick with oil and other fluids. Felix’s knuckles are white on his desk.

But with his back arched, his mouth is empty, and he can hear himself growling, sounding needier than he wants to, “Just finish already.”

“I’m going to.” Dimitri says it too-earnestly, breathy and hurried, before his fingers dig in and his thrusts go deeper, harder, more off-pace. Felix feels his hand curl into a fist and he slams it down onto the desk before grabbing at Dimitri over his shoulder; Dimitri lets out a long moan and stifles it against the soft skin of Felix’s neck, biting down just as he shudders through his last thrust.

Felix is breathing heavily. They both are.

Dimitri slips out of him, pressing his fingers to his lips and looking away from the impression he’s made in Felix’s neck. He does this every time, too. “I’m sorry for—”

“Shut up and get out.” Felix doesn’t want to hear it; his erection is still hard and needy, and the last thing he needs is the fucking boar getting any stupid ideas about actually satisfying him. It’s always like this. He can feel himself quivering.

After wiping himself as clean as he can, Dimitri collects himself, rebuttoning his trousers and smoothing out his uniform. He gazes at Felix, his expression too damn sad for someone who just had sex. Felix doesn’t know what his problem is—it’s all simple satisfaction. At least this time Dimitri has the good sense not to bother saying anything else.

Felix follows him over to relock his bedroom door after Dimitri ducks out, before he leans against it and slides down to the floor. As usual, he wraps his own fingers around his cock. If Dimitri had the awareness to just _touch_ him while they were… and eager, obedient, his cock twitches in response to the thought, straining for the attention of Felix’s grip. Felix tips his head back against the door and chews his lip as he slides his hand up and down his length, kneads his balls, slides his fingers down to ease them into some of that sleek wetness where Dimitri had been.

Now he’s working two-handed, one hand curled under his balls to massage them while the other twists and squeezes his shaft. The mixture of oil and Dimitri’s come and his own sweat squelches thick and wet along his length, and as Felix feels the rush of orgasm come over him, he bites down into his lip hard enough to break the skin.

He tastes blood.

The moment passes. As the thrill ebbs away, Felix is left with a dirty floor, a crumpled uniform, and an empty, unfulfilled feeling within him. He closes his eyes, pain blooming in his bloody lip as it twists into an angry little smirk.

It’s nothing like training. At least training leaves him feeling satisfied.

He hates Dimitri because he’s so fucking bad at keeping promises.

When the Blue Lions class had agreed to meet on the eve of the Millennium Festival, Felix was sure the understanding had been that they’d show up whole, with their minds intact. Instead, Felix had been disgusted—unsurprised— ~~disappointed~~ —to see that the unseated Boar King had shown up in full beast regalia, snarling and bloodthirsty and just as stupid as he’s always been.

Mercedes murmurs words about forgiveness; Annette brightly suggests that things will be better now that they’re all together again; Sylvain and Ingrid simply look on in silence; Ashe sadly posits that Dedue might have been able to do something if he’d been here, and Felix shakes his head, knowing better than them all. This isn’t a changed Dimitri, like they think it is. He isn’t _different_.

No, now they’re finally seeing the _real_ Dimitri, the animal that’s been skulking amongst them shrouded in sheepskin, with his fangs tucked into his clenched jaw. Felix always knew the beast would show itself again. Felix always knew this was going to happen, and it makes him sick.

Not even their professor can reign in Dimitri’s bloodlust, and Felix isolates himself from them all, practicing whenever they’re not marching or sleeping or fruitlessly trying to make the boar see reason. He disdains food, avoids conversation, and finds it difficult to sleep, refusing to recognise the ways it mimics Dimitri’s own behaviour. Everything about this war is frankly infuriating, and to quash the feeling that there’s nothing he can do, he trains.

He’s better now, better than he’d been back in their Academy days: now he duels three imaginary opponents at once, darting and crouching like a cornered wolf. His sword moves like an extension of his own body, sharp and precise, and lost in an endless loop of familiar motions, Felix relishes the absence of his own thoughts. Nothing but careful footwork. Sweat beading on his brow. Riposte after riposte, until his legs burn as much as his arms do.

When at last his fingers refuse to keep their grip any longer, he roves the grounds of Garreg Mach like a hunter with no prey, scowling away anyone who might consider giving him company. Aimless, he eventually finds himself pacing through the ruined church, where the beast has laid claim to its den. It’s far too predictable: an ashen-faced, motionless Dimitri stares blankly into the shadows, not even looking up when Felix marches in front of him and glowers down.

It’s fine. Felix can wait. He shifts his stance, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his chin. The silence between them feels like it stretches as long as the years they’ve been apart.

Dimitri doesn’t look up, but when he speaks, his voice is rough, “What do you want?”

 _‘You.’_ Felix feels his empty stomach churn and spits out other words. “For you to be the person you’re supposed to be.”

“I’m doing what I need to do.” Dimitri retorts, sharper than Felix expected him to be. He shifts within the cloak of matted fur; Felix tenses as he hears the scrape of metal on the stone floor. It doesn’t make him back down.

“No one needs you pretending to be a dead person. You’re alive, you should act like it.”

“What would you know?!” Dimitri surges to his feet in a fury, but Felix is faster, falling back a single step before snagging the clasp of Dimitri’s cloak and yanking Dimitri in close as he sneers.

“More than you. You forgot how to be a human being years ago, didn’t you, beast?”

Felix’s eyes are locked onto Dimitri’s narrowed one. They exhale, near enough that the heat of their breath mixes together. As the warmth of it wafts across his dry lips, Felix suddenly feels painfully aware that it’s been years since he’s been intimate with anyone other than his own hands—not since the last time he’d been with Dimitri. Once, it had felt like a choice that meant something.

War-worn as they both are, it had only taken that split second for them both to arm themselves, but now the sword and lance each dangle uselessly at their sides. It feels like the whole church has gone still. Dimitri’s mouth is just barely open, like he might say something; Felix drops his sword and brings his other hand alongside his grip at Dimitri’s throat, whispering as his hands shake furiously, “Why the fuck did you survive if you were going to come back like this?”

Dimitri bellows like a wounded animal and bodily shoves Felix backwards; Felix splays out on the floor and Dimitri kicks his sword towards him before he hefts Areadbhar above his head, bringing it down in a swing he can’t keep from crashing into the ground. The stone floor cracks beneath the blow and Felix scrambles to one side, seizing his sword as he feels the strength of the Crest of Fraldarius pulsing ready within his skin. He twists to block Dimitri’s next wild strike and feels his knees buckle when Dimitri’s own Crest sends a wave of newfound strength through him.

Dimitri levies swing after swing against his artful defense, slowly running Felix back into a corner. Felix lets him, and once his back is against the bricks Dimitri flings Areadbhar aside, freeing his hands to take hold of Felix’s collar like Felix had done to him. Silence fills the church again; their breath mingles. Again, Dimitri’s mouth is open, his exhales heavy and strained like he’s done more than just battle Felix across the room.

Then he crushes his mouth against Felix’s throat, pairing the motion with a sharp thrust of his hips. The adrenaline singing in Felix’s veins leaps at the knowledge that Dimitri’s hard and in a flash he’s dropped his blade and wrapped his legs around Dimitri’s waist, his fingers digging deep into that stupid fur until he can feel the sculpted lines of Dimitri’s shoulders. The Crest of Fraldarius beats within him again, and he feels Dimitri react against his grip squeezing tighter for an instant.

Dimitri’s teeth scrape across Felix’s neck and his tongue follows and Felix shivers with need, his fingers squeezing and releasing and touching the lines of Dimitri’s jaw. The only thing Felix can think about is shoving his dick down Dimitri’s throat. Using the wall for support, he shimmies up higher until he can curl his legs over Dimtri’s shoulders and unlace his trousers to release his aching shaft. Felix’s change in position makes Dimitri pause, a flash of uncertainty on his face, but when Felix exposes his erect prick, Dimitri buries his face in the smell of it, and Felix’s fingers twist in against his skull.

Like a creature that’s been starved for sustenance, Dimitri opens his mouth to Felix’s cock; Felix has no where to stifle his raised voice as the wet heat envelops his length, and no where to grip except the plane of wall behind him and the tangle of blonde between his legs. Almost immediately, his hips are rocking, juddering, and Dimitri’s making sounds in the back of his throat like this could be choking him, but he never pulls back.

It’s over almost as quickly as it started.

When Felix arches his back as the heat inside him reaches breaking point, Dimitri seizes his hips with Crest-bolstered strength and holds him firmly in place, taking all of it within his mouth. Then, when Felix shudders into the bonelessness of post-release bliss, Dimitri slowly lowers himself onto his knees, until Felix’s feet can touch the floor and he can stumble onto his own weight. Dimitri turns his head to spit a mouthful of come onto the floor.

Eyes half-lidded as he slumps against the wall, Felix asks, “Are you done?”

Dimitri just looks at him before turning his back. He slowly retrieves Areadbhar and retreats back to his position in the centre of the floor; by the time Felix straightens to his full height and fixes his trousers, it’s like nothing has even happened. Like Felix hasn’t even been here.

Felix collects his sword, adjusts his clothing and stalks away with a grimace. He’d wonder how something so satisfying could feel so empty if it didn’t feel so damn familiar. He doesn’t know what he expected.

After all, animals can’t talk.

He hates Dimitri, he’s sure, but he doesn’t know why anymore.

With the breeze behind him, Felix gazes out over the newly reclaimed city of Fhirdiad. The celebration’s still ongoing—even this far up, Felix can hear old Kingdom songs skirling through the streets as the common people forget the war for an evening. They’ll remember their hungry bellies tomorrow; they’ll remember their fallen family members and the splintered remains of the Empire needling at their borders, too. But for now, they’re just celebrating the return of their king.

Here, alone, Felix can admit to himself that he’d given up on this, on a resolution that didn’t involve the massacre of absolutely everyone he knows. He has to smirk when he recalls what it took to get them here: a murder attempt on a homicidal, self-destructive animal, the death of his own father and countless others, and their professor finally managing to say something that got through to their deposed boar-king.

It’s certainly not the way he expected things to go.

He hears a door ease open and shut behind him and glances over to confirm that it is indeed Dimitri before he stays where he is, leaning on the parapet as the sun begins to descend. Dimitri’s washed and slept and eaten and somehow manages to look more tired than he had when he was subsisting on nothing more than blind rage. But there’s something else different about him now—he’s shed the last of his beastly garb to wrap himself in something more befitting of a member of the royal family. He walks with his back straight and his eye clear, and when spoken to he listens with more attention than most people seem comfortable with.

The responsibility looks better on him than that stupid cloak ever did, Felix thinks, hiding a stray smile by looking down at his folded arms. He starts brashly, like it’s a conversation they’re already in the middle of.

“My brother and my father have died for you.” Felix doesn’t think he misses Glenn anymore. He decides he’ll stop missing Rodrigue soon, but he doesn’t relish going back to Fraldarius, his dukedom. After all, it was never supposed to be _his_. “Are you coming for me next, boar?”

“I could never kill you, Felix.” Dimitri sounds too honest when he says it, and Felix shuts his eyes, unwilling to witness whatever stupid expression Dimitri’s bound to have on his face. Dimtri spends a moment in contemplation, before moving to lean alongside Felix and saying softly, “I’ve only begun to make peace with my ghosts. But I think losing you would haunt me more than any of them.”

It takes a moment for the real gravity of that sentiment to hit him.

But then Felix scoffs before he dares to look: Dimitri looks sombre, serious… and true. It can’t be. This whole time, that hasn’t been… They’re not… Felix shakes his head in denial, making a half-hearted dismissive motion with one hand.

Dimitri smiles—it tugs his face like he’s unused to the motion, but it makes him look good. “Don’t die on me, either. Please. Without you…”

“Don’t say anything stupid.” Felix interrupts him in a hurry, looking away again as faint warmth rushes to colour his cheeks.

Ever disobedient, Dimitri keeps talking, voice low and private. “Without you, everything tasted of ash. It all became blacker and bleaker, and the only thing I could hear was them clamouring for revenge. It was all I wanted. All I lived for. When you were gone, I—”

“Became a beast?” Felix interrupts, trying and failing to make his tone sharp enough. The world seems to have gone silent around him—all he can hear is Dimitri’s voice and the sound of his own heart thudding loudly in his ears. 

“Became less able to be anything.” Dimitri admits, closing his eye. When he opens it again, he looks out over the Kingdom capital, his tone rueful, “I know the war isn’t over. I have yet to finish things with Edelgard, and we won’t be able to bring peace to the kingdom until that’s been done. But I hope that this action, at least, begins to show you my intentions truly.”

“… It’s a start.” Felix murmurs.

Dimitri visibly hesitates before reaching across with one hand, placing it lightly over the back of Felix’s hand as though he expects Felix to pull away or push him off. When Felix remains motionless, he says, “Would you permit me to ask something of you?”

Stubbornly silent, his throat full of clamouring emotions, Felix just nods. None of his training has prepared him for this; he knows Dimitri and he knows himself, but Dimitri's found a new path to lead them down, and he...

“After this is over, during my rule…” Dimitri stops himself, expression twisting, and starts over, “I would like you to stay with me.” Felix stares at him, studying Dimitri’s face. Dimitri tries to smile again, and damn if he doesn’t look attractive with the the setting sun flaring behind him. “If I’m to live for myself from now on, then I want you by my side.”

“Is that so?” Felix hears himself answering before he can stop himself, and the expression that slices across Dimitri’s face feels like a stab in his gut. Before Dimitri can withdraw, Felix laces his fingers up through Dimitri’s hand and holds him in place, pressing down hard with his fingers. Dimitri looks at their joined hands, then at his face, and Felix doesn’t look away. He thinks he should feel more conflicted, but he doesn’t. He’s sure he should feel dissatisfied, because that’s how Dimitri always makes him feel, but instead, he’s full of a engulfing sense of rightness, certainty. He just doesn’t know if he can say anything else. 

He does know what his answer is.


End file.
